


Around You

by kjstark



Series: Football RPF one-shots [5]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, a lot of shippy things happened in this international break okay, i'm one-shot whore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjstark/pseuds/kjstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
I call you my friend and thats all that I do. Why do I have to pretend to find ways to be around you?<br/>
You've been there all along, holding my hand like you do.
Why do I feel that its wrong to love to be around you?
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Around You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a one-shot whore that can't be asked twice for something. It's an issue.  
> So I wrote this in speed record, I don't think it sucks as much as I thought it would but I'm glad I got it off my chest.  
> Anyway, enjoy. The summary and the tile are both from Ingrid Michaelson's "Around you" which you should totally listen to because it's Neyscar af

Oscar clicked on the vending machine button way too hard. That was the first sign that he was getting anxious. Willian had disappeared ages ago and Oscar hated, _loathed_ , to be left alone in places he wasn’t entirely sure about himself. _Damn David and his damn PSG._

The can made a loud sound when it hit the dispenser box and Oscar ventured his hand to take his coke out. Click sound of it opening and the next second he was swallowing quickly.

“ _Sir_?” Ahh, please no. Not English. Oscar hates English.

He turned around and prayed for it to be a nervous fan who’d say so much as three words to him as they usually do –he makes sure to thank God for that, sometimes he’s even more nervous than they are –but what he saw made his day a hundred times better in the blink of a second.

All there in his Nike glory was Neymar. With shiny eyes and wonder smile. With a style he alone could pull and his never changing carefree attitude. With a heart Oscar hardly found in other teammates. He was balancing himself on his feet with his hands on his pockets, all hype-active Neymar, and his was biting his lower lip by this point.

Oscar finally felt himself breathe easy air.

He stepped forward and lowered himself just a bit to give Neymar the tightest, warmest, most appreciative hug he’d give anyone in a long time. Neymar took his hands out of his pockets and placed them on Oscar’s thin hips.

“I missed you, too,” Neymar muffled, against the crook of Oscar’s neck, the warmth of his words making Oscar shudder under his jacket.

“I’ve been alone,” Oscar stupidly said, and when he let go of Neymar, he realized he was freezing. Neymar looked at him in the eyes, slightly closed as Neymar used to do when he was trying to figure something out. Oscar cracked a laugh. “Here, in the airport,” he cleared, and Neymar nodded slowly. “Do you know when are we leaving to China?”

“Any second, now, I hope,” Neymar replied, looking for a second to his back, and then he closed his arms. “How you’ve been?”

 _Lonely. Good. Cold. Tired. Bored_. “Busy,” Oscar answered, scratching the back of his head. “You?”

 _Edgy. Homesick. Bitter. Cool._ “Fine. I got a dog!” he shared, excitedly.

“Poor thing,” Oscar mocked, making a tragic face, and Neymar punched him in the shoulder.

“He’s the cutest thing. Far cuter than you,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Oscar only shook his head and looked to the side, carefully studying the room. Oscar turned then to look at Neymar once more but then the door opened.

“They need you both outside. We’re leaving, but, there’s  a jungle out there,” the security man informed them, with a scared face. Neymar sighed deeply, but they were used to this. He winked at Oscar one last time and out they were.

* * *

 

“His name’s Poker,” Neymar said, sitting next to him on the plane to Singapore.

“Who’s name?” Oscar asked, adjusting himself on his seat.

“My new dog,” he reminded.

“I’ll remember so I know who I’m praying for,” and Neymar punched him in the shoulder again.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a dog,” he refuted.

“ _You_ need to be taken care of, how can _you_ take care of anything?” Oscar kept going but Neymar was smiling.

“’Cause he’s a dog, it’s easy!—

“You’re right, he’s probably more hyperactive than you, he won’t get annoyed—

“And you just keep bullying me,” Neymar sighed. “Why did I miss this?” he muttered, pointing at Oscar and then turning to look at him. Oscar only shrugged.

“Just go and take a selfie, why don’t you,” he joked. But Neymar still took his phone out, tapped on instagram, and made everyone smile.

He fell asleep on Oscar’s shoulder right after Marcelo stopped annoying everyone with his weird-ass Spanish music. Oscar stood stiff for several minutes until he relaxed, and remembered all those times Neymar fell asleep on him while at Confederations Cup and the Olympic Games, back when they were each other’s the most. Oscar sighed, and fixed himself on his seat, gracefully making sure Neymar’s head didn’t move around so much. And he fixed his cheek against the top of Neymar’s just-washed hair, and fell asleep to the sound of his even breathing.

**-o-**

He was tired. But he was happy. He played with Kaka, he played with David, he played with Neymar, and they won –fine, it was an ugly ass trophy in a simple friendly but winning against Argentina will always make one happy. And he played with his people, with his family, his friends. Coutinho was snoring loudly by the time Neymar texted him to tell him he was outside his room. Oscar stepped out of his bed soundlessly and stepped into the hallway to see an insomniac-Neymar playing with his phone while sitting on the carpeted floor.

Oscar couldn’t help but smile because _Neymar’s such a child._  

“It’s gonna sound extremely pathetic and lame but, I wanna be next to you as much as I can before we go tomorrow?” Neymar said, giving him his brand puppy-eye look and Oscar moved the corner of his lips upwards.

“That’s what I was a thinking,” he said with a smile, which Neymar widely returned as he patted on the floor, a spot next to him. Oscar walked and sat.

“So --have you accepted that Robinho is totally better than Kaka?” he said once Oscar was sitting.

“Are we really gonna stay up all night fighting over this?”

In the end, they stayed up until 4am, when an angered David Luiz stepped out of his room, which was the door right next to where they were sitting, and asked them to fuck off, loudly. Then before Oscar tried to go inside his room, a yawning Coutinho emerged from it.

“Where’s your bed, Neymar?” he asked, with his eyes closed.

“Uhm, with Danilo, room 64,” then Phillipe, without saying so much of a word, walked through the hallway and entered the room Neymar had pointed out.

They watched Rio that night, and put the beds together. And Oscar finally didn’t feel cold for one night.

 -o-

“I’ll see you next month. Can you do me a favor?” Oscar asked, as Neymar fixed his cap until he liked what he saw. Everybody was getting ready to hit the airport to leave to their specific clubs.

“Sure,” he promised.

Oscar looked at him, intensely. “Try keeping it alive. Don’t forget he exists, he’s gonna be there for you whenever you need him but he needs to know now and then that you’ll do the same for him, okay?” Neymar pressed his lips together and curved his smile. Looking back at Oscar.

“We’re not talking just about Poker, are we?” Oscar just smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek before the airport lady said it was time to go.

 _It was okay. They’ll see each other again. It was all good._  


End file.
